


beneath the darkest skies

by Ablissa



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 06:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18772975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ablissa/pseuds/Ablissa
Summary: Dan loses himself in Phil’s eyes for a few long seconds.How could he not? It's almost like seeing the sky again...____After an asteroid hits the Earth, people are forced to live in underground bunkers. Dan, having lost all hope, struggles to adjust to this new world and the rules that come with it.His life changes when he meets Phil, an ex-weatherman who has a completely different outlook on the future.(happy birthday Mandy! <3)





	beneath the darkest skies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dizzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/gifts).



It's been six months since Lazarus hit.

It wasn't unexpected. They knew. Humanity, they knew. Months upon months upon months...

They knew.

Which is why Dan is still here.

 

-

 

Dan remembers the day sometimes. More often, he dreams about it – little snapshots of a past that will never ever return, at least not in his lifetime. Strangely enough, he remembers the lead-up to it more than he remembers the actual event.

He remembers first hearing about Lazarus - an asteroid that was set to collide with the Earth. That was over a year ago, but of course, just like in all the apocalyptic films he used to enjoy watching, _they_ knew long before it was leaked to the media. _They_ being... those who were privileged.

The government. Rich businessmen. Not people like Dan, not people like his family. _They_ , the rich and the important, had a head start. They built their own bunkers, miles and miles underground. They aren’t stuck here with the rest of the survivors now.

Well, they are. They are forced to take in refugees... but only those of a similar social standing.

 

Dan sometimes wonders about one thing. When would the rest of the world be told if not for that one guy who cracked and sold the story to the media? Would they all be kept in the dark? For how much longer?

Hardly matters now. The guy told them. He told the press.

And from then on, everyone was in panic.

 

-

 

Dan laughed at the news at first. He'd spent half his life on the internet - he wasn't easily fooled. Stupid hoax, he thought. Another clickbait.

Only this time, within minutes, the news was _everywhere_. BBC. CNN. An official statement from the Prime Minister. Lots more statements from all sorts of rulers all over the world. When the leak happened, everyone followed with their own announcements, and the world devolved into chaos – not slowly, no. Almost immediately.

Riots on the streets. Calls for action. Robberies. Home invasions.

Worse things. Much worse.

Dan tries not to think about those people. The ones that fought, stole, killed.

None of them made it. Only the supposedly good ones did.

 

It's the bad ones that keep Dan up at night. It's their screams he thinks he can hear, even though it's impossible.

He can't. The only thing he heard when Lazarus hit...

...was a resounding silence.

 

-

 

The alarm, loud like a siren, stirs Dan from his uneasy sleep.

What day is it? He can't even remember. But the siren at least tells him that it's six in the morning, and he's meant to be starting his day.

His tired eyes land on the ceiling first. It's funny, but six months after the impact and seven spent in this bunker, he's still surprised to see ugly metal where he used to see white walls.

This isn't home. But it is. It has to be.

 

This bunker, one of the sixteen that were built in the UK, houses tens of thousands of people. It's located miles underneath what remains of Earth's surface.

The bunker is cramped, filled with long corridors, lifts, endless flights of stairs. It's not _meant_ to look nice, and it truly doesn't. It's meant to defend them from the outside world. Keep them safe. Keep them alive against all odds.

The light here is always artificial and a little too bright. Everything is functional and advanced, but definitely made on the cheap. Engineers are in high demand these days, because someone has to fix this piece of rubbish that the government stuck them all in.

 

Home is different now than it used to be before. Home is this tiny room, not much bigger than a cell in prison, with four bunk beds and a small space in between, leading up to a table placed by a window. Well, a window is perhaps too generous a word for it. It's something made of glass, behind which there is a large photograph of a hill, a tree, and the rising sun.

Dan gets the logic behind this. People miss all that - the sun, the sky, fresh air. But he also understands the people who tore their pictures to pieces, revealing the metallic walls behind them.

He hasn't seen the sky in over six months. He doesn't need a daily reminder of what it used to look like.

He remembers a lot of things. It's just that on most days, he doesn't want to.

 

He sits up, knowing better than to try to sleep in. Glancing to the other side of the room, he sees an empty cot. His brother must already be awake. Possibly went somewhere else to exercise; the thought alone is exhausting to Dan.

Below his own cot, Dan hears his mum beginning to wake up as well, and on the bunk below Adrian's, his dad is putting on his glasses.

It's time to start the day.

Dan swings his feet over the side of the bed, simultaneously stretching his arms. He's only twenty-two, but his back already hurts, and the pain is the worst in the morning. Those government-issued cots that they sleep on were probably like five quid a piece.

"Watch it, 'm jumping down," he warns his mum, then lands with both his feet on the floor.

"Morning," she says when he turns towards her.

"Morning," he replies, stretching once again.

Dan catches her casting a glance at his father, and the ever-present nervous knot in Dan's stomach seems to double in size.

Yeah, this hasn't been too great, the whole thing with his mum and dad. They were about to get a divorce when they were, collectively as a family, issued this single cell for them all to share.

In general, the close quarters hasn't been great. Dan, his little brother, his mum, his dad. Zero privacy. Zero alone time.

Zero hope for a change.

 

Dan almost rolls his eyes at his own thoughts. _Thinking_ is not going to help him get through the day, and in this new, post-impact universe, their days are busy. There isn't much room for thought.

Perhaps it's a good thing. Staying on schedule is pretty much the only thing that keeps Dan from collapsing.

 

-

 

"Howell, fetch me a syringe," Nurse Williams grumbles, eyeing the young patient with unmasked annoyance. "Gotta do some blood work, although Lord knows no one's got the time for _that_."

Dan scrambles to do as he was told, sending the patient a sympathetic glance. She's a young teen who came into the clinic feeling faint. Normally Nurse Williams just sends such people away, but this is the third time for this particular patient, so the protocol forces her to actually investigate the problem.

The protocol has to be strictly obeyed these days.

Dan hands Nurse Williams an empty syringe and watches her do what she has to do, complaints spilling from her mouth one after another. She then hands it back to Dan, sending him on his way to the lab.

 

This is how Dan spends his days: working in the clinic that he was assigned to for unknown reasons. His mum has a job in medicine and he was lumped in with her, even though prior to all this, he used to feel slightly faint at the mere sight of blood.

Nobody cares in this new world. Dan had to adjust. They all have jobs to do. There aren't near enough people to fill them all.

 

Routine. Schedule. Protocol.

And the dark sky over them, concealing the sun, forcing them into hiding.

 

-

 

Around six hours into Dan's shift at the clinic, two men come in. One of them is black haired, the other a mild ginger. The black haired guy is limping, hissing in pain as they come to a halt at the reception. He leans into the other man for support.

"My brother needs a medic," the ginger says, handing Dan two ID cards – his own and his brother's. "Think he must have hurt his foot."

Of course. Just Dan's luck. Williams went on her break just about ten minutes ago.

Dan shoots them both a scared look, swallowing thickly as he tries to remember his training. He did receive _some_. Just nowhere near enough.

"Sit here," he orders after a pause, attempting to sound more confident than he feels, pointing towards one of the cots.

The injured man does as he was told, once again letting out a pained sound as he sits.

"Philip, right?" Dan confirms, if only to delay things further.

"Phil," he corrects Dan. "I—I fell down the stairs while carrying—I was carrying supplies."

"You _fell down the stairs_?" Dan echoes. This is way, _way_ above his pay grade. He can maybe handle a small cut or a headache, but falling down the stairs equals concussion, and Dan can't even remember what to do with those.

"He's exaggerating," his brother clarifies. "He _stumbled_ down the last two steps."

Dan's gaze flits back towards the patient, finding his pale cheeks suddenly reddening as he averts Dan's eyes. His lips are pursed in a small pout.

For a man four years Dan's senior – Dan checked his ID - he looks a lot like a bruised child.

"Details," Phil mumbles.

Dan exhales. He could make the guy wait, but then he'd likely get a scolding when Williams returns, and he doesn't need that. Disobedience in this new world is borderline dangerous, and he doesn't want to be the reason behind his family losing some privileges as punishment.

He can at least _try_.

"Okay, right," he says, standing over Phil, not really knowing what to do. "Um, where does it hurt?"

Phil stretches out his leg, lifting up his black jeans, exposing an ankle that even Dan can see is already swollen, not to mention alarmingly red.

"Here," Phil points needlessly.

Dan still just stands there nodding. What should he do? Give him an ice pack? Go get someone who knows what to do? Cry?

After a moment of silence, Phil looks up. "Doctor?"

"Huh?"

"Are you okay?"

Dan glances down, properly meeting the man's eyes for the first time.

He has a handsome face, a slim build, and roots at the base of his black hair. How did he even get hair dye? But most of all, he has a set of blue eyes, and it's those eyes that Dan loses himself in for a few long seconds.

How could he not? It's almost like seeing the sky again.

Noise outside the clinic pulls Dan back to reality rather abruptly. He closes his mouth, which fell slightly agape, and clears his throat.

"Sorry?" Dan says, already forgetting what he was asked.

"You okay?" Phil repeats. His expression seems to have softened, and those blue eyes are still transfixed on Dan's.

"Yeah, yes. Um. So your... your ankle hurts, then."

"A lot."

"A lot. Well, right, I—"

"Don't you need to examine him?" Martyn, Phil's brother, insists. Prior to this moment, Dan had almost forgotten that he was even here. "Doesn't he need an x-ray?"

Their eye contact is broken as they both turn to Martyn.

"Examine? No, I'm—I'm not a doctor. I'm like... I'm... I just work here. And I can't refer you to an x-ray." He turns his eyes back towards Phil and offers weakly, "I could give you an ice pack?"

"You're not a doctor?" Phil asks.

"An _ice pack_?" Martyn echoes.

"Could bandage it for you as well," Dan says, placating. That much he _kind of_ knows how to do. "I'd offer you—I'd give you some pills for the pain, but—"

"But what?" Phil presses.

Shit. He skipped a step. The question is supposed to come _before_ he reveals that he has any pills he could give. People are desperate these days, and medicine is in short supply.

"Uh... how much does it hurt? Scale of 1 to 10."

Their eyes meet again, and Phil regards him with something that looks a lot like understanding.

"Nine," Phil says. Dan's never seen him before, but he knows he's lying. A twisted ankle is _not_ a nine. Dan's already seen nines in his short time at the clinic. This is not it.

"You don't want to do that," he advises Phil without knowing why. "They're gonna put it on your record. You don't want them to think you're a liar, Phil. Trust me."

Phil raises his brows, surprised, then eventually nods.

"So how much does it hurt?" Dan asks again.

Phil sighs, wincing as he sets his foot down. "Four, I guess."

Dan nods. Yeah, he can't do anything about a four. Medicine is one of the most guarded resources this bunker even has.

But...

Dan leans closer to Phil, feeling his own heartbeat quicken with every inch. Why is he even doing this?

Those sky blue eyes show nothing but surprise when Dan lowers his voice and whispers, "Make it a five. A five gets you some ibuprofen."

Phil blinks, processing Dan's words. His lips eventually stretch into a weak, but strangely bright smile.

"Five. Yeah. Five."

Dan nods with a grin, goes to make a note in Phil's file, and hands him a few pills.

"Don't take them all at once," he advises. "Take like... two. Or three. I dunno. Three probably won't kill you."

Phil's chuckle catches Dan entirely off-guard.

"You're really not a doctor, are you," Phil comments.

"No, I'm probably the _opposite_ of a doctor," Dan replies quickly, then adds, "Whatever that might be."

Phil opens his mouth to speak, but at that moment, Nurse Williams comes back from her break. The last thing Dan manages to do while she can't see, is to whisper close to Phil's ear: "Hide the pills, mate. She's really stingy."

Phil does hide them, although he's nowhere near as sneaky as Dan would want him to be.

Dan smiles at Phil one final time before letting Nurse Williams push past, clearly on her way to see the patient.

"What is this, then? Hurt your ankle? Give it here. Bandage, one evening of rest, no painkillers. Make the notes, Howell."

 

Dan is sent on another errand before Phil and Martyn leave, but he doesn't make it back in time to see them again.

 

-

 

The days go by, one after another, with little hope for change.

Everything in the bunker runs on a tight schedule. Three meals a day. Bedtime at 10:30. Wake up at six, and half an hour later on Sundays. At least two hours a day of leisure time.

Every housing section of the bunker has an area referred to as the _real world zone_. Much like the fake windows they get in their so-called rooms, it's all a sham made to keep them happy. The real world zone is just a huge open space, supposed to resemble a park or a meadow.

There's fake grass, fake flowers, and a projection of some sort that serves as the sky. A recording of singing birds plays on loop. The area is only accessible for a few hours a day, because the upkeep is very expensive in terms of electricity spent. As a result, it's usually fairly busy.

If it were up to Dan, he'd likely never go there. But even that is mandatory, because apparently, it's good for their mental health.

It's really not, but it's not like Dan has any say in the matter.

 

Today, like usual, he's in the _real world_ on his own. He tends to clock in his obligatory hours separately from his family. He's tired of arguing about the merits of being forced to pretend this is all real. He just wants to sit on the grass in peace, looking down at his own knees, until he's free to leave.

After some time passes, he falls back onto the grass, staring up at the projection of the sky. The clouds that roll above him are being played on a loop just like the singing birds, and he can't help but wonder why they didn't just make the track longer, less obvious. Even the colour of the sky somehow seems off, but Dan is slowly starting to forget what the real thing looked like.

And yet, he still remembers how it felt to swim in the sea, and he still remembers sitting out on the patio during hot summer nights. He also remembers the taste of rain and the sound of thunder.

He used to love falling asleep when it was pouring down outside.

 

Lost in his memories, he's beginning to drift off when he hears the grass next to him rustle. He opens his eyes with a start, and sees the patient from a few weeks ago.

Phil Lester.

Phil is looking down at Dan with a grin that easily reaches his eyes. It's genuine, more genuine than Dan can remember seeing in months, and it has Dan scrambling to sit up.

"Hey doctor," Phil says lightly before Dan manages to compose himself. "I was hoping I'd see you eventually."

Dan tries to ignore the unexpected bundle of nerves that seems to have lodged itself in his throat. He smiles. " _Still_ not a doctor. How's your ankle?"

"All cured thanks to the _illegal medicine_ you gave me," Phil responds.

Dan takes note of the crinkles in the corners of his eyes.  _A sunny sky blue_ , he thinks. Phil has sunny eyes. _Happy_ eyes.

How?

Dan's brain cycles through several witty responses before finally settling on one. He leans a little closer to Phil, but not quite close enough to breach the borders of personal space.

"I can get you more," he whispers, then pulls back to look Phil in the eye.

"Oh yeah?" Phil's voice slightly falters.

"Yeah. Go twist your other ankle, right? Then come in when I have a shift. I'll sort you out," Dan deadpans. He's stupidly pleased with himself when Phil laughs.

"It's most likely going to happen! I'm a bit clumsy."

"Just watch it, because if it happens more than three times, they're going to start seeing a pattern and demote you to vitamin C," Dan blurts out, catching himself too late. Shit. He's not supposed to be saying these things to anyone, much less a stranger.

Phil frowns. "Demote me to vitamin C?"

Dan sighs. He's really shit at this whole _think before you speak_  thing. Maybe because he hardly ever talks to anyone these days.

"I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but—they sort of—if someone comes in too often, they start giving them vitamin C instead of pain meds. It's just—y'know, pain meds. Short supply. Placebo effect. Yadda yadda."

Phil's expression sours, and Dan immediately feels guilty for more than just being a chatterbox.

"That's... But what if someone's _really_ hurting?" Phil asks him.

Dan rubs the back of his neck, breaking eye contact.

"It... depends," he dodges.

It depends on what the Minister of Health tells them to do that particular week. It depends on the supplies. It depends on a lot of things. It depends on the nurse or the doctor.

Mercy is getting harder and harder to come by these days.

Phil doesn't reply immediately. When Dan hears him sigh, he thinks he must have put him off, even though Dan is hardly the one responsible here.

"I'm sorry," Dan says quickly. "I know it's rubbish, but—"

"It's not your fault. You've helped me," Phil interjects gently. "You know, I'm actually a bit grateful."

"Grateful?"

"Yeah!"

Their eyes meet again as Dan waits for Phil to elaborate, but he doesn't.

"I don't get it."

"I get headaches often, always have. Before..." Phil pauses. There's no need to explain what he's referring to. " _Before_ , I used to just pop to the pharmacy and it was alright. But the meds they give me here just do nothing for me."

Dan draws in a sharp breath. It makes sense.

He'll check at work, of course. But what does he even say?

"It's shit, isn't it," Dan mutters after a pause. "These times we live in."

Phil purses his lips, as if in thought. His eyes fly up towards the artificial sky.

"But at least we're alive. We're still here."

 

-

 

"Where have you been? You missed supper," Dan's mum scolds him the moment he steps foot in the door.

Dan is already climbing up to his bunk.

"Leisure time," he shoots back, flopping down on the uncomfortable mattress.

"For _three hours_?" she asks incredulously. "Dan, please tell me you're not—"

He immediately cuts her off. "I'm _not_."

"Then what?" she presses. When he ignores her, she stands on tiptoes and smacks his arm, capturing his attention. "Daniel!"

Dan rolls his eyes much the way he used to do when he was thirteen. His mum is too short to see it, so it doesn't have the desired effect.

"I just—I just got talking with this patient from the clinic. Lost track of time."

He can sense the shock on his mum's face without even looking down at her. Dan hasn't made a single friend here. In fact, the few people he knew prior to the impact, he did his best to avoid. His previous school bullies and their families are hardly friend material to Dan. In his previous life, he moved to get away from them. In here all he can do is to ignore their existence.

"Oh, is she nice?" Mum asks him. He sighs in response.

"He. He, mum. Yes, he's nice."

There is a pause, during which he can hear his mum sit down on her own bed.

"I'm glad."

The conversation ends, because his mum is not quite as pushy as to keep interrogating him, and for that, Dan is grateful. He needs some space to think.

Phil _is_ nice. Weirdly cheerful, hopeful and just... _weird_ , but so nice. Dan hadn't even noticed as the hours flew by when they talked. He stayed in the real world zone long past the usual hour, which means that he won't be allowed to go for the rest of the week.

He can't bring himself to regret it.

 

He learned a bit about Phil, like the fact that he's from what used to be the North, he used to work in television, and right now, he works with animals.

All that aside, Phil used to like video games too. And similar music to what Dan used to listen to. And he really liked _Game of Thrones_.

Remembering was good, but also painful. Dan was surprised to find how many details have been blurred by the last seven months.

Of course, they still have electronics in the bunker. Dan got to keep both his laptop and his phone, but he's not so naive as to expect them to get replaced if they ever break. The government on the other hand is not so naive as to expect that people would _not_ go insane without something resembling the internet, so they have that. Sometimes.

Closely monitored.

There's no Netflix and no Facebook, but there is a messenger service that they are allowed to access during leisure time. Reddit survived against all odds, but it's really, really empty. However, the internet signal is very spotty, and they're only allowed to use up electricity on charging their devices twice a week, so the days of being able to watch films or play games for hours on end are over.

Dan still does watch his old shows sometimes, an episode at a time, but only those that he's got saved on his computer.

 

Despite the internet here being less than perfect, they still exchanged their messenger names. And Phil said _I had a nice time talking to you._

And he smiled just so, _so_... and as a result, for the first time in here, Dan felt a rush of something positive coursing through his veins.

For the first time in here, Dan didn't have to force himself to smile. It came naturally around Phil, and it comes naturally now, just thinking about the past two or three hours.

He grabs his phone from the shelf above his bunk. The battery is low, and he's not due for a charge for two more days, but he still pulls up the messenger app, and he types out a message.

And he deletes it. And then types it again. And deletes it.

What is the point?

 

He's startled when instead of sending a text, he receives one.

From Phil.

 

**> Lester, Philip Michael (C-287A3)**

**Can I see you again soon?**

Wow. Is this what joy used to feel like? Dan remembers so many things, but this, he almost forgot.

 

**> Howell, Daniel James (G-9283Z)**

**you'd better**

-

 

"I can't believe you used to be a youtuber," Phil says when they meet again in the real world zone the following week.

"I don't tell people here, not usually." Dan pauses. "I'm surprised they even let me in here. Youtube was a useless job."

"Making people happy is not a useless job, Dan."

They're sat on the grass facing each other, legs crossed, knees brushing now and then. For once Dan is able to ignore the annoying bird soundtrack. His entire focus is on Phil.

"Doesn't translate well to a world with no youtube, though."

"I'm sure it does," Phil retorts easily, "I mean, you're still you, right? Just not on video."

Dan's gaze locks on Phil's. He finds himself studying this relative stranger closely, as if wanting to understand what lies beneath all that kindness. Phil doesn't waver; he maintains eye contact. He just smiles.

"Well, you know how it is, right? You worked on the telly. You're just—you're not really _you_ on camera. I'm nothing like that in real life." The mention of _real life_ turns Dan's thoughts sour. "What did you even do? Like, specifically. Have I seen you in anything?"

Phil chuckles, shaking his head a little. "Not unless you were obsessed with the weather channel. I was a weatherman."

Dan's lips stretch into a grin as he imagines Phil, looking all smart in a suit and tie, talking about the weather.

"No, I wasn't. I really missed out." What the—why did he even say _that_ out loud?

Dan's brief moment of regret comes and goes as Phil's reaction to his words is a bright smile. Phil looks down at his lap for a few seconds and then back at Dan, staring him right in the eyes without reservation.

"I really missed out too."

During the short silence that follows, Dan's gaze shifts towards Phil's hands, which lay absently in his lap. Dan doesn't know why he gets a sudden urge to reach out and grab Phil's hand, but it's there, and he has no idea what to do with it.

So he chickens out.

"Give me a little preview. You know. The weather forecast," Dan blurts out, although he really wants to say, or _do_ , something else.

"What? No!" Phil protests, flustered but laughing.

"Come on!"

"No way!"

"Why not?"

Phil hides his face in his hands, peeking out at Dan as he responds. "You're going to think I'm daft. Or awkward. Or both! And I—I don't even know what the real weather is."

Dan's expression falls slightly.

 _He_ does know.

He schools himself just as quickly. It's been a long time since he laughed with someone. He's not going to spoil that.

Dan points to the artificial sky. "Looks pretty sunny to me."

"There's your forecast, then," Phil shoots back, then attempts to mimic Dan's tone. "Looks pretty sunny to me."

"I'm going to get my proper forecast one day, Lester," Dan says, "Just you watch."

"What, are you going to blackmail me?" Phil teases in return.

Dan tries to maintain a poker face as he says, "I'll bribe you with ibuprofen."

Phil's eyes widen and then he laughs in earnest, punching Dan in the arm lightly.

Dan finds himself quite shocked with how... effortless it is to just be here with Phil. It's not only unusual for him in this new world. It would have been equally unusual _before_.

"Ibuprofen? Is that what you always bribe people with?"

"Nope. Just you."

As the laughter dies down, Dan finds that the ever-present nervous knot in his stomach suddenly feels _nice_. A lot like butterflies. A lot like excitement.

He wonders what Phil must be thinking right now.

"A man after my own heart," Phil whispers after a pause, and suddenly, Dan feels heavy and light all at once.

 

- 

_Two weeks later_

"Nurse Williams?"

She doesn't normally look away from her work when Dan talks to her, but she does today. He must sound nervous. Her small brown eyes pierce him for a few seconds, almost accusing, even though he's done nothing wrong.

"Yes?"

Dan sits down the opposite of her, looking at her with uncertainty.

He has to at least _try_. He promised himself that he would.

"I need... I... could you do me a favour?" Her eyes widen, so he hastily adds, "Please."

"Howell, does it look like I'm here to grant wishes? I'm not Father Christmas, you know. I'm busy. We've got the whole block on our hands, and now they're assigning block C to us too, because—"

"I know. I know. This won't take much work. Almost no work. I mean, I can do all the work. I just need—I need your help with something."

Her expression softens ever so slightly, reminding him that she's not an awful person. Not many of them are. They're just normal people faced with awful circumstances.

"Are you running out of your pills again? You'd have to talk to the doctor for that, you know. Our supplies are almost out."

Right. Dan's pills.

If not for Nurse Williams, his depression would remain untreated once he ran out of his own meds. He fidgets in the chair, feeling like he's already taken too much, and it would be greedy to ask for more.

But this isn't for him.

"No. No, but you know, thanks." He pauses, sighs, and continues. "I... I have this friend."

"And?"

"And he gets—I think he gets migraines. And—you know. He's needed painkillers a lot. And… the ones we're giving him, they don't help." Dan doesn't have to elaborate, because she knows as well as he does what that means.

Dan did check Phil's file. The last time Phil got _real_ painkillers was two months after arriving in the bunker.

Nurse Williams exhales tiredly, pushing away a strand of grey hair as it gets into her eyes. Meanwhile Dan sits there, waiting for a verdict, hoping that she might help him and his new friend.

"Are you sure they're migraines, Howell?" she asks him at last. "Sure he's not lying?"

"I'm _really_ sure."

She looks down at the desk, stroking her chin for a moment, then finally says, "Have him come in tomorrow. Maybe we can arrange something for him."

Dan's mouth falls open for a split second, then he reaches out and grabs her hand in both of his, shaking excitedly.

"Thanks so much!" he exclaims. "That'd be amazing! I'll tell him. I'll tell him right after work."

She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. She escapes his grip, then softly says, "Get back to that work now, Howell."

Dan nods. It's going to be hard to focus on his tasks now.

All he wants to do is see Phil.

"Yes ma'am."

-

 

"My mum insists on meeting you," Dan tells Phil sometime in the following week.

They're sat side by side, leaning against one of the fake trees. Over the past weeks, personal space was slowly becoming an irrelevant concept for them, and as a result, their bodies are pressed against each other all along the sides. For some reason, it doesn't feel uncomfortable. Dan enjoys the warmth emanating off Phil's body, and laces their fingers together without much hesitation.

They’ve held hands a few times before, when the _real world zone_ had been relatively empty.

But holding hands with friends is not unusual, right?

Phil squeezes his hand. "Why?"

Dan releases a long, tired sigh.

"She's just being weird," he dismisses.

He could tell Phil the truth. At this point, he definitely trusts him enough, even though it hasn't been that long.

But Phil is so nice and so happy despite how shitty their lives are. Dan doesn't want Phil to think that he's so much different from him. He doesn't want Phil to think badly of him.

Would he, though?

Dan feels Phil's gaze on him, but he doesn't turn to meet it.

"Is she?" Phil asks him quietly.

"So will you?"

"Is something wrong?"

Dan's chest heaves with a sigh.

No, he can't tell him.

"Will you?"

When Phil doesn't respond, Dan finally budges. He tilts his head in Phil's direction, finding him staring right back.

Dan often nearly drowns in the blue skies that he sees when he looks at Phil. He never wants to look away.

"Of course I will, Dan."

 

-

 

The government organises mandatory Surface Reports every month, and for Dan, it's the worst possible thing.

On those days, entire blocks – thousands of people – are made to go to the _real world zone_ , which is temporarily transformed into a large... cinema, of sorts. Seeing it used for that purpose only highlights how fake the whole thing is on regular days. Dan absolutely hates it.

Once there, they have to sit through a recording of what the Earth's surface looks like now, and listen to the predictions.

The predictions haven't changed ever since the impact. Dan doesn't believe the optimism; in his mind, he calls it propaganda.

_"We are pleased to announce that the amount of sunlight is increasing every single week. Temperatures are rising, and we are now up to temperatures we used to experience during especially cold winters. We strongly believe that starting next month, we will be able to send out manned missions to the surface..."_

Dan tunes it out. The recording is not the same as last month, but it might as well be.

It's always _next month_.

It's like it was with Lazarus, pre-impact. They're not telling them the truth. Dan knows it for a fact.

_"Our scientists firmly believe that the Earth will, once again, become habitable soon enough..."_

Almost against his will, Dan watches the video. Thick, stormy clouds are illuminated by sunlight. It almost looks like they're clearing. Like it's getting better.

But Dan knows this is not what the surface really looks like.

Phil nudges him lightly, pulling his attention away from the screens. When Dan discreetly meets his eyes, he is met with a worried expression.

"Dan?" Phil whispers.

He won't tell Phil the full truth. But he will tell him _something_.

"Let's meet at the blind spot tomorrow," Dan whispers back. "You know where."

Phil knows. Where the cameras don't reach. They've already been there.

"Are you okay?"

"I'll tell you why my mum wanted to meet you."

 

-

 

The blind spot is one of the few places in the bunker that grants relative privacy. Not many people know about it, and that alone is its biggest advantage.

Most of the bunker is carefully monitored by countless cameras, but of course, there are always bound to be blind spots. The majority of them are out in the open though, in places that are always teeming with people. This place in particular is great, because it's located away from prying eyes, near the server room.

On a normal day, nobody even goes there. And if they are caught, there's plausible deniability of them being lost. In truth, Dan gets lost in the bunker nearly every day.

 

Once Dan makes it to the blind spot, Phil is already waiting, pacing nervously with his back turned towards Dan.

Dan is nervous too. For so many different reasons.

Despite that, or perhaps because of it, he slows down, wanting to surprise Phil by sneaking up on him.

"Boo!" he says in a loud whisper, hands on Phil's shoulders allowing him to feel just how much he manages to make Phil jump.

"Da— _Dan_!" Phil exclaims, then lowers his voice considerably. "What are you—are you trying to kill me? Is that why you _lured_ me here?"

Dan snorts, carefully pushing Phil a few steps into a corner, where he knows the cameras don't reach. He keeps his hands on Phil's shoulders, although now, they're facing each other.

There's a quiet noise when Phil ends up with his back against the wall, but then, they both fall silent for a moment, simply regarding each other.

This is scary. Being with Phil feels so good that it's scary, because losing it would... it would really suck at this point.

But Dan has to tell him, and the sooner, the better.

"Phil," Dan utters. He slides his hand down Phil's arm, squeezing lightly. "I'm going to tell you something that—that if—if you tell anyone, I could get... I could get in a lot of trouble. Okay?"

Phil blinks, frowning at Dan in apparent worry. He maneuvers out of Dan's grip and grabs his hand instead, glancing down at their joined fingers before once again meeting Dan's eyes.

Dan swallows down the lump that seems to be lodged in his throat and watches as Phil nods wordlessly.

"I..." He pauses. This is a major leap of faith. Faith in Phil, faith in their... in their new friendship. "I know what's out there. On the surface."

Phil's eyes immediately widen. Dan senses that he'd take a step back if there was enough room for it.

"What d'you mean? We _all_ know. We saw the video yesterday."

Dan purses his lips. "It's not—it's not exactly _real_. Or at least it wasn't a few months ago."

Phil processes that information, and then asks the obvious question.

"How do you know?"

Dan sighs. Only his mum knows about this.

"Before the clinic... the first two months, I—I worked with the cameras. You know, supervising." Phil nods, encouraging him. "I found a way to see the surface. They have loads of cameras set up. I—I wasn't supposed to see, Phil. But I did and I—"

"What did it look like?" Phil asks urgently.

"I took photos, and I wanted to—I wanted to expose them. Because they're fucking liars, Phil. They—they kept showing these like, these bright pictures. And they always say _next month_. And it's bullshit. I wanted to tell everyone—"

"What did it _look like_ , Dan?"

Dan shakes his head slightly, caught off-guard by the distress so clearly apparent in Phil's eyes.

"It doesn't _matter_. Are you even listening? I wanted to show everyone. Nobody knows this, Phil. I'm trusting you here," Dan mutters, a defensive kind of irritation seeping into his voice.

Phil releases a sharp breath, biting his lip as he waits for Dan to keep talking.

"I was ready to do it, but my mum caught me. She stopped me. That's why she's constantly worried about me. She's worried I'll try to do it again. If I did it—if I tried—I don't know what would have happened." Dan pauses. "People have so much hope. You have so much hope, and I was ready to just throw that away because I was..."

"Angry?" Phil guesses after a moment of silence.

 _Very_ , Dan wants to say. But what comes out is something entirely different, something small and far too raw.

"Scared," he whispers. "I don't like this place, Phil. I don't—I don't belong here. And we might be here for years and years and years, and if I did what I wanted to do, they'd..."

Dan's looking down so he doesn't see Phil's expression, but he feels himself suddenly being pulled into a tight hug.

"But you didn't," Phil mumbles into Dan's hair. "You're here."

These past few months, Dan hadn't really _lived_. He merely existed.

He never hoped for it to change.

But...

Dan can almost pinpoint each and every atom in his body as it comes back to life when Phil holds him. Slowly, he relaxes into the embrace and returns it, burying his face in the crook of Phil's neck.

"What did it look like?" Phil whispers again when Dan doesn't say anything.

"I don't want to tell you," Dan mutters close to his skin. "You're always so... I dunno. You've got hope."

To Dan's disappointment, Phil pulls back, rests both his hands on Dan's shoulders, and waits until Dan eventually returns his gaze.

"Tell me. Please."

Dan sighs. He won't. Not the whole thing.

"It's dark out there, Phil. It's—it's just really, really dark. And I _hate_ them for lying to us."

Phil presses his lips into a thin line. There's a crease between his brows that Dan hadn't seen prior to this day.

"Does it help?" Phil asks him at last, his voice quiet and level.

"What?"

"Hating them. Does it help you?"

Dan frowns at first. He controls his initial urge to pull away and snap at Phil. He bites back the _what are you, a therapist_ and the _yes it bloody does_.

He bites them all back, because after all, Phil is the only one that somehow pierced the thick veil of Dan's misery. Not even Dan is foolish enough to fuck that up _completely_.

Dan turns to one of the metallic walls, as if looking for answers there, but they never come.

"I'm sorry," Phil says at last. "I don't mean to lecture you. I just—"

"It was all I had," Dan whispers, interrupting him. "It was either that or thinking about how I'm going to live in this bloody metal box for literal _years_."

Phil places his hand on Dan's cheek, gently coaxing him to return his gaze.

"But not forever." Phil removes his hand, and Dan is instantly struck by a feeling of loss.

"But longer than they say," Dan argues. "I don't believe them. It's not gonna be soon. It'll take years. And it'll never be the same."

Phil smiles patiently, then asks Dan something out of the blue. "Do you know what I miss?"

Dan shakes his head, confused.

"Ice cream on a sunny day, and—and popcorn at the cinema, and... and I miss having plans, and I miss whining whenever I used to have the flu..." Phil's eyes turn slightly misty, but he's still looking right at Dan. "But we have ice cream here sometimes. And I have my old laptop, and I have—I have Buffy on an external drive. And—"

Dan's eyes are watering by now too. "And?"

"And I still want so many things. I want to watch Buffy with you. I want to hear about your old dog." Phil pauses. He swallows thickly and finally turns his eyes towards the high, metallic ceiling. "I want to see the sun again someday. And I'll wait. Because... what else do we have?"

Dan's breath is caught in his throat. He bites his lip as he desperately wishes to look Phil in the eyes again.

It strikes Dan how everyone suffered those same losses. Lost their friends, families, belongings, futures. It's just that some people bear the loss not with anger, but with hope. Like Phil.

Phil. Dan's own personal substitute for the endless blue of the sky. Dan's own ray of sun in a place otherwise filled with harsh, artificial light.

 _Phil_.

"We'll watch Buffy," Dan manages to say before the tears spill out onto his cheeks. "We'll watch _all_ of it."

Phil finally looks down, clearly surprised to find Dan in tears, even though Dan spots a wet trail on Phil's cheek too. They regard each other in silence for what feels like a long time.

"Yeah," Phil utters at last. "Yeah. We will."

 

Against his own will, Dan casts a glance at the government issued watch on his wrist. They're already late for supper. Phil catches him looking.

"We should probably go," Dan says sadly. He doesn't want to, but it's not worth getting in trouble. Despite his words, he does nothing to pull away from Phil, and Phil doesn't move either.

Dan feels the heavy weight of things left unsaid. He wonders if Phil feels it too.

Is Dan allowed to feel like this? Despite everything, so very glad to have met Phil? Despite all the anger and the fear and the loss, is Dan allowed to feel _this_ way?

Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, he does.

Phil looks him right in the eye, and words slowly become redundant. Maybe it's too soon to voice it. Maybe it's wrong. Maybe they shouldn't.

But when Dan, equal parts powerless to stop the words and powerless to continue, whispers Phil's name, Phil seems to understand.

"I know," Phil says simply. "I..."

Seconds feel like entire lifetimes when at last, Dan leans forward and presses his lips to Phil's.

Phil stills, not breathing and not returning the kiss for an instant, but when they part, he chases after Dan and kisses him back without a second thought, tasting his lips carefully and gently, as if mapping out roads previously unseen.

It doesn't last long. It can't.

Yet when it ends, Dan can't help the joyful, very quiet bark of laughter that escapes his throat.

 

The clouds miles above them, on the surface, remain dark as ever...

...but the clouds that have long enveloped Dan's soul seem to have brightened.

 

-

_Three years later_

 

"Watch out. It's bloody cold out there."

The sergeant in charge of their group warns them without sparing a single glance in their direction. Dan merely nods, even though the man won't see it. Dan's throat is so tight, he doesn't think he'd be able to speak anyway.

He leans into Phil for support as the lift slowly continues its ascent. In these gigantic protective jumpsuits, they aren't able to do much else than just be there, be close, be present.

The protective gear is supposedly overkill. The amount of radiation had significantly lowered over the past four years, but it's still _really_ cold. It will stay cold for years to come.

 

Dan and Phil aren't special. Many people before them had already been allowed to do this – to go back out into the real world. The teams have to take turns, because working on rebuilding the settlements is really taxing. They're not even in the first thousand from their bunker alone.

Dan won't be building anything. He's the team's medic, and Phil is meant to catalogue any remaining signs of life. _There won't be much_ , Dan thinks sadly. _Probably none._

But they _will_ step foot on the ground. They _will_ see the sky.

Dan will see something other than the images they are still fed month after month. He will see for himself.

 

As the lift approaches ground level, Dan finds that he can hardly breathe. His heart is racing, he's almost shaking, and he can't even hold Phil's hand for support. The gloves are too big. It wouldn't be the same.

Phil bumps Dan's shoulder with his own, silently pulling him out of his own thoughts. Their eyes meet through their helmets, and eventually, Dan nods.

"All of you follow me," the sergeant commands, his voice booming through their headphones. "You'll get your five minutes. Look around, do your thing, then we're on the move. We only have six hours until sundown, and you _better_ believe it gets dark then."

Fuck, Dan wants to say something to Phil. Something, anything. But then everyone else would hear it.

But Phil knows, doesn't he? He always does.

 

They walk through a long metallic corridor, much like the ones down in the bunker. When they reach the exit, the door opens, and suddenly...

They're illuminated by a soft, grey light.

One after one they step outside, following the sergeant closely. When it's Dan's turn, he freezes at the sight of the scorched wasteland before him. Despite it being almost noon, it's still somewhat dark, like it used to be right before dusk in the middle of winter. All he sees are dead trees, dark ground littered with rocks, and an overwhelming emptiness.

Breathless, he steps out fully at last, and he's immediately hit by a strong gust of wind.

He can't properly feel it. Not through this suit. But he remembers it. He remembers the wind, and the softness of real ground beneath his feet. He remembers, and he finds that the real thing, while different, is still the same.

Phil follows after him. They walk a few steps to the side, standing close to each other, but their eyes remain planted on the ground, almost as if they're both afraid to see the very thing they wanted to see the most.

Dan looks at Phil, and he's already looking at him. Silently agreeing to do this together, they both turn towards the sky.

The clouds are still there.

Dan is reminded of storms in the summer and the dark clouds that used to announce them. Not black, but a dark, subdued kind of blue.

The clouds are thick, but not as thick as he remembers from the footage he'd seen years ago. However, Dan stares on, exceedingly disappointed.

He can't see the sun.

His shoulders slump as he looks back down at the ground. They both wanted to see it, he and Phil. They knew from the others that it's not impossible. Some people _have_ seen it.

Suddenly, he feels another nudge and almost simultaneously, his headphones blow up with disbelieving laughter.

Could it...

He first looks at Phil. Again. And it's only when Phil nods that Dan turns his eyes back towards the sky.

 

Through the clouds, long, dim rays of sunlight emerge, illuminating the world before them, reflecting off their helmets. Dan, breathless and speechless, stares at the very thing that used to be so normal – used to be regarded as nothing – he stares, and stares, and stares.

 _Sunlight_.

Dan glances at Phil, who is still staring in awe. They'd promised each other that they would see this again, but they could never be sure.

When their eyes meet once more, neither seem ashamed of the tears threatening to spill out at any moment. They lean into each other, and Dan wishes he could witness the way full sunlight would reflect off of Phil's eyes.

For the first time, he allows himself to believe that maybe, one day he _will_  get to see it.

 

Sunlight.

The Earth, enveloped in darkness for nearly four years, lived on. Against all odds, in spite of everything that was lost.

They lived on. They're still here.

And tomorrow, the sun will rise again.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a present for the amazing [alittledizzy](http://alittledizzy.tumblr.com). Happy birthday, Mandy! <3
> 
> Thank you if you read this, please let me know your thoughts :)  
> [Reblogs are very welcome! ](https://phanbliss.tumblr.com/post/184770967985/beneath-the-darkest-skies)  
> I'm sorry for not posting over the last 2+ months. I promise I haven't abandoned my WIP and I'm going to get back to it. I'm always trying to write, but my mental health doesn't always allow it. I hope this fic will mark my return to writing regularly.
> 
> Lastly, thank you so much to my wonderful beta reader - [insectbah](http://insectbah.tumblr.com) <3


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